


Getting Cocky

by ohhstark



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhstark/pseuds/ohhstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a smile and ends with a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Cocky

The first time Adie smiles at him, he knows he’s a goner. It’s a shy twist of her lips, like a secret he could lock up in the gnarled folds of his heart. She is so God damned beautiful, it almost breaks his heart. So God damned beautiful and it scares the shit out of him. 

He knows who he is, likes who he is more often than not, and he is not a good guy. And she…she deserves a good guy. A straight-shooter who’d never even looked at a jet inhaler. She deserves someone who isn’t a runner. She needs someone like Piper or Preston Garvey. Even MacCready would be better for her than him. 

But she is either stupid or has a bad case of masochism because of all the people she could have, she seems bound and determined to have him. It starts small. A brush of her hand against his. Their eyes meeting for just a moment too long in the low light from the fire. And God help him, but he loves it. It is never, ever enough. He wants more. He wants to wrap his arms around her and never let go. He wants to take her and run and leave the World to burn in their wake. 

He fucking hates that it would be impossible for either of them to ditch their lives. To flee the tiny corners they’d carved for themselves from the Commonwealth’s hide. Him in Goodneighbor and her all over Kingdom fucking Come. But despite all the baggage, all the shit and the unspoken histories between them, they make it work. They travel together when they can. Occassionally, she swaps him out for MacCready or Nick Valentine in one of her settlements. To give him a rest, or so she says. Funny that she lets him take breaks, but she never seems to take any for herself. One of the things he loves most about her is her constant energy. It is also the thing he hates most. She has a habit of running herself ragged and he worries for her. Worries and hates that low tension humming in his blood every time he watches her leave.

It all comes to a head when she gets back to Sanctuary after being gone for what had seemed like forever. He’s gotten on without her. He’s helped Marcy with the impressive garden they’d built. Sturges had dragged him along for repair jobs. Even Preston had made the effort to make him feel more welcome. It wasn’t Goodneighbor, but of all her settlements, this one felt closest to home. She’d built it from almost nothing through sheer force of will for these people, for herself. 

A sudden shout rang out through the crisp Autumn air. His heart skips a beat when he turns and sees her on the road leading into town with MacCready huddled close behind her shoulder. Preston and Sturges are already walking over to say their hellos. He turns back to the Mutfruit tree and starts plucking again. He knows how overwhelming it is for her sometimes, getting back into town and immediately having everyone gather around her. He doesn’t want to add to it.

He doesn’t want to see her with MacCready either, but that was beside the point. Knowing that she should have someone else and seeing her with someone else were two very different things. Call him crazy, but that was one awkward situation he didn’t want to get in the middle of. She would find him, when she felt up to it. 

“Not gonna go say hi to your girlfriend?” Marcy says from her spot kneeling in the dirt. It says a lot that when he meets her eyes, her lips are already settled into a wry grin. She is a far cry from the woman he’d met only a few short months ago. Being in this place changes people and it had certainly changed her. 

“Nah,” he says and can’t help but glance back over his shoulder. They are closer now and even from where he stands, he can see the droop of her shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes. He suppresses the very strong desire to tuck her immediately into a bed.

Instead, he turns back to the tree, careful not to meet Marcy’s eyes again. “She’s got enough people lookin’ for her attention.” 

 

It isn’t until after sunset that he gets the chance to talk to her. He is just settling down to sleep in one of the spare houses that no one else bothers with when he hears something shuffling around in the front room. 

“Hancock?” she calls out for him just as he reaches for his shotgun. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe. His hand falls uselessly back to the mattress. When he opens his mouth to reply, he hears her moving towards the room he is in. He swallows hard, his throat working uncomfortably with the effort. Despite the cool night air, he feels too big and hot for his own skin. 

“I’m here,” he manages quietly. He opens his eyes and sees her leaning up against the doorway. She’s changed out of her traveling gear into slacks and a soft flannel shirt she’d found when they were clearing out some clothing store in Boston. He tries not to think of her clothes. He tries not to think of gripping the fabric and pulling it over her head. Tries not to think of her hips shimmying as she pulls off her pants. Fuck. 

“You’re the only one I haven’t seen since I got back. Even Marcy stopped by to tell me I look like shit.” The words sound clipped and he instantly regrets holding back from her. 

“She does have a way with words,” Hancock deadpans. He throws back his blankets and sits up. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pats the mattress at his side. She only hesitates for a moment before coming to sit next to him. He can see that she is still hunched in on herself. He hates that she looks like that now, looks like that because of him. 

“Are we…” she starts, her voice fading for a moment, “Are we okay?” The words are loaded and fuck, but he has no idea what to say to her. What could he say? He won’t tell her that he’s spent every day thinking of her while she was gone. He can’t tell her that it had been the hardest thing for him to watch her leave, knowing that she might not come back. He will not tell her that he was a wreck over her.

“Hancock?” Her voice isn’t what jolts him. It’s that hand wrapping around his own that does it. He’s been a ghoul for so long and is used to going without physical contact that the gentle press of her hand always manages to throw him. He can feel her fingertips smoothing over every mottled crevice in the surface of his skin. That feeling of toohottootight rushes through him again. It is all he can do not to lean into her touch, to lean into her. 

“I’m-we’re-okay,” he finally manages around his swollen tongue. And then there is that smile again. God but he wanted to kiss that smile. Kiss it until she laughed. Kiss it until she moaned. He closes his eyes again. If he can’t see her, he’d be okay. She shifts on the mattress beside him, flopping onto her back. He can hear her spine pop as her bones settle. She is still holding his hand. 

“God, I miss beds. Bed rolls are Hell on my spine,” she says in the darkness. It startles a laugh from him. He can almost feel her grinning at the back of his head. 

“You’re just spoiled is all,” he drawls and earns a kick to his shin for his trouble. He smiles at nothing. He’d missed this, missed her. 

“I missed you,” she says, as if she could pluck the thoughts from his head. And just like that, the air turns thick with something. She sits back up and leans against his shoulder. His heart is pounding in his ears. He wonders how strange it would be to take a hike and let her have his bed for the night. He doesn’t need sleep, probably wouldn’t be able to catch even a wink now anyway. She really knows just which of his buttons to press. 

“What are you wandering the Commonwealth missing me for? You shouldn’t…waste that on me,” he says and it actually hurts to say the words out loud. He’s wanted her for so long, it was bound to come to this. But it makes him feel empty and angry and sad that it’s finally out in the open. This thing, him traveling with her and helping her in Sanctuary, is over. 

“What the Hell are you talking about, John?” His first name. She never uses that unless she’s serious or angry or seriously angry. He thinks, from the way she spits the words at him, that she might be all three. 

“I mean. Shit, Adie. You have to know by now how crazy I am about you,” he says. The words are falling out of his traitorous mouth so fast that he can hardly get them out properly. His teeth and tongue are in the way and he doesn’t know what to do about the hand still gripped tight in her own. “And you deserve better than me, sweetheart.”

The last thing he expects is for her to laugh. He has to admit, it stings. He’d been thinking about her, about them, for months now. And this is what he gets for trying to be a gentleman. For trying to be a good guy. 

“I’m sorry,” she says and it’s a strangled thing ripped from her throat. Her laughter turns hysterical and then her hand leaves his to wipe at her face. “I’m sorry.” Quiter this time, with an edge of bitterness that makes his chest ache.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. It’s been a rough few weeks.” The words are just bordering on clipped and he knows that she can hear it. And just like that, she ignores it.

“They have,” she agrees. She still hasn’t grabbed for his hand yet, but her thigh is pressed to his own and he can feel the edge of her hip against his. “John, don’t put me on a pedestal.”

“A pedestal? Shit, Adie, like I even know what that means,” he tries for a lopsided grin at her, but it just feels wrong. It had been easier to stay away from her by thinking of her as more of an idea than an actual person. He knew how fucked up it was and he thought he’d gotten away with it too. He should have known she was capable of seeing too much. Of seeing right through him.

She just stares at him in the darkness. He sighs and leans toward her until their foreheads touch. It isn’t comfortable, but he feels the fight drain out of her finally. She slumps against him and he wraps one hand around her forearm.

“It was easier for me to think of you like that. Because you can’t be with an idea. You can’t kiss an idea or hug an idea. You can’t really love an idea; not like you can love another person. And I…” The moment the word falls between them, he wants to bolt. All the things he’s been through in life, and he’s never told anyone but family that he loved them. But he knows it is the truth. It has been for longer than he’d care to admit. 

In the dark, it’s hard to make out her expression and this close, with the foreheads touching, he can’t stare at her too long anyway or he’ll go wonky eyed. But he thinks he sees one of her smiles poking through. 

“It was easier for me too. You know about Nate. He was…everything to me for so long and I’d never been able to see past him, but you. Jesus Christ, Hancock.

“You blew into my life like a Rad Storm and I can’t shake you. No matter how far I run away from this. No matter how much you hold me at arm’s length,” she gets the words out. They fall between them and it’s like he suddenly can’t breathe. The only thing keeping him in the moment is her face pressed to his own. He can feel the solid weight of her just there and he knows that if he dared, he could reach out. He could reach out and grab her and she would let him. She could climb into his lap and wrap her arms around him. The only thing stopping them, the only thing that had ever stopped them, was themselves.

“I’ll stop running. If you will, babe,” he says. There is something bright and shining and new blooming in his chest as she leans back. Enough for him to finally see the expression on her face. Exultation and delight and absolute, unabashed joy. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Christ, finally. I thought you two were gonna explode from all that repressed sexual tension,” someone says as they pass the house.

She snorts a laugh and mimes a very rude gesture at MacCready as he waves through the window. Hancock could punch him if he wasn’t so fucking happy.

“Mind your business, Mac. And you might want to find a nice, quiet spot to sleep tonight because it might get pretty loud in here tonight,” she says as she turns back to him. That smile is going to kill him. 

“I so did not need to hear that, boss,” MacCready fires back. It’s utterly lost on them. She leans forward and finally, finally presses her lips to his. He surges forward, pouring the last few months into the kiss. It’s fast and just bordering on sloppy from their fervor, but it’s perfect and leaves them both breathless. They both pull away, laughing with flushed skin and hands that don’t quite manage to stay still on the other.

“Just think how much we’ve been missing out on with all that pining shit. We could have been doing this weeks ago,” she says, peppering gentle kisses along the ridges of his cheekbones. 

“I think we can make up for lost time in the next few hours,” John replies and deftly flips her over. 

“Getting kind of cocky up there, Hancock,” Adie says with a grin that should be criminal. He almost misses the innuendo, what with her hands roaming under his shirt to pull it up and over his head. He lets her and leans down to nip at her clavicle. 

“You’re gonna find out just how cocky,” he says and laughs when she groans and tugs him down for another head-spinning kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very brief one-shot of my first SS and Hancock. I just love him so much and this is my very poor attempt to give back to the SS/Hancock fandom that has given me life over the past couple months.
> 
> Check out my Tumblr at http://ohhsolos.tumblr.com


End file.
